QBR
by Cassodembreankia
Summary: There's only one person on the planet with the computer skills to hack the secret base. And it's not Tony Stark. It's the hacker that made Stark Tower's cable network play My Little Pony for 72 Hours straight.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: I haven't written in 1st person in a while, so I'm getting back into it by writing this story. There's a book I hope to publish one day written in 1st that I haven't written in ****_months_**** so, I'm practicing. The style for this one is a little bit different than the style for my other Avengers fic "Under a Violet Sky", but that's 'cause that one's in 3rd person, and this one is something of an experiment (including using bigger words for the first little while). This is the prologue, so it's in 3rd, but next chapter will be 1st. Enjoy! I don't know how often I'll update, and sometimes it will be on indefinite hiatus, but I hope you like it!**

**Usual Disclaimer for Every FanFiction Ever: I own nothing but my OC and the general plot.**

* * *

The Avengers gazed skeptically at the hologram in front of them. The fortress appeared to be completely impregnable. "So, I'm gonna ask the obvious question, how do we take that down?" Bruce Banner inquired. "The sequencing of codes is so enormously complex it would take several hours just to gain access to the first gate, and by then we'd be noticed."

"You have to recruit another," Nick Fury commented.

"Who?" Clint Barton demanded.

"The only person on the planet who I think can get inside unseen," Nick Fury replied.

"What's his name?" Tony Stark asked.

"Quincy B. Robinson."

"What's the B stand for?" Natasha Romanoff asked sarcastically but curiously.

"I've honestly never asked," the director of SHIELD admitted.

* * *

**End Note: Because the prologue's so short, I'll post Chapter 1 probably tomorrow or the next day (I have a busy weekend of being lazy and going to a hotel with my sister, cousin, and aunt planned). After that, chapters will be up randomly. Sorry. School's crazy (but almost over) and Under a Violet Sky and its sequel take up most of my FanFiction time. Still, I hope you like it! Thanks for taking the time to read it, it means a lot to me! If you liked it, or the next chapter, leave a review. If you didn't like it, I still want to know. Just... try not to be ****_too_**** mean. It's just an experiment on my part remember?**

**Thanks!**

**~Cass**

**EDIT: Sorry, I accidentally gave the wrong name. It's not Quincy B. Johnson, like I had it (I was in the middle of some History homework about Lyndon B. Johnson and typed the wrong thing). It's Quincy B. Robinson.**


	2. Not What I Seem

**Author's Note: Thanks for reading this! I hope you like it! It means a lot to me! I'm just trying out this style, like I mentioned in my Prologue A/N, so sorry if it's a little bit weird. Enjoy! I had ****_way_**** too much fun writing the end of this chapter, but... spoilers! I'm putting this up a couple hours early 'cause there's no way I'll have time later. Hope you have a fun weekend!**

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I sat in the desk chair quickly, my dark eyes trained intensely on the computer screen in front of me. Scarred, strong, fingers with heavily bitten nails typed furiously at the keyboard. I flicked an annoying chunk of hair out of my face. Lines upon lines of code scrolled over my vision. But this was easy. Child's play. I once hacked the cable network of Stark Tower and got one of the channels to play _"My Little Pony"_ for a solid seventy-two hours before the great genius Tony Stark could get it working properly again. Of course, the stupid SHIELD agency had come after me, but I was _good_, and I hid. They knew my name, but they didn't know my story. They didn't know who I was. They didn't know my background. And that was just fine with me.

"Come on, come on," I whispered. This was something that was supposed to be simple—and it was. Horrifically simple. But the computer was _slow_. I tapped my foot and began to glance nervously around the room, eyes never stopping. Stupid pranks were my best trait, and I always left behind my little symbol. A little _QBR_ in the corner of a screen. No one except SHIELD knew what those letters even meant.

Quincy B. Robinson, pleased to make your acquaintance. I'd shake your hand, but there's a computer—or Smartphone or iPod—screen and a bunch of words in the way.

Celebrities were horrendously overrated. There was a reason I hacked Stark Tower's cable network. Sometimes they needed to be _dragged_ off their high horses and shoved firmly back into reality with a boot kicking their back. I had a peculiar sense of justice—and I knew that—but pranks helped ease their fall.

Something creaked from somewhere behind me. I muttered a choice word under my breath. I knew when people were coming for me. I had a timer on my phone displaying how many minutes I had until I was caught. Glancing down, I saw about five of the fifteen were left. Right as I heard the first footstep, I saw what I was hoping to see. "_Disney songs on rerun—activated and successful."_ I closed out of the window right as a man in a crisp suit sat in the chair next to me. He had thin hair, light brown, and blue eyes. There was something exasperated in his face. "Quincy Robinson?" he asked. I raised my eyebrows. He was SHIELD then.

"What do you want?" I demanded.

"My name is Agent Phil Coulson. I work with the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division."

SHIELD. Called it. Wasn't I good? Like a modern Sherlock Holmes.

"I kinda figured you were," I remarked, sarcasm rolling off of me in waves.

"There's a fortress the Avengers can't gain access to. Do you think you'd be willing to help out?"

"If SHIELD stops trying to follow me and I get my slate wiped clean," I replied, turning the timer off on my phone and opening _Flappy Bird_. I hated the stupid game, but it was a great way to appear uninterested in whatever anyone was saying to me. Coulson looked thoughtful.

"Deal."

* * *

I walked into the SHIELD headquarters that I think someone mentioned was called the Triskellion. There was a hugely skeptical look on my face. I adjusted my duffel bag on my shoulder and looked around. Everyone around me looked so… crisp. Just like Coulson.

The elevator was fast. I felt my stomach swoop as it started to ascend about forty floors. "The conference room is the second door on the right," Coulson said to me. "So you don't look like you're completely lost when you pass the windows. Mr. Stark would never let you hear the end of it if you did." I felt my hand grip my bag strap tighter. What was this government shmuck doing? Trying to make me feel welcome? Trying to annoy the living daylights out of me? Whichever one it was, it wasn't working. I had kept a tight lid on any and all emotions since I was thirteen years old. There was no way I was breaking that now.

There came a soft _ding_ and I swept out of the closed space into a hall. I marched right down it to the second door on the right that had windows with blinds looking out to me. All of the famous, legendary Avengers were sitting around a table. I observed them silently before they saw me.

Tony Stark was looking just as crisp as the SHIELD agents. His hair was neatly done, and his suit looked expensive. Bruce Banner was a little more care-worn, wearing no tie, with his hair tousled like he'd rolled out of bed two minutes ago. It was seven in the morning, so maybe he had. Natasha Romanoff looked like she was only half paying attention to what was going on. She was wearing skinny jeans and a sweater. Clint Barton sat on her right side, in jeans and T-shirt, looking edgy and a little angsty. Thor, the demigod-dude, was in his Asgardian armor, looking thoroughly confused by our strange Earth customs. Steve Rogers shared a similar expression, but a little less confused. He looked like he had come straight from the 1940s, by his outfit. Leather jacket, slacks, button-up plaid casual shirt. I snorted at all of their looks.

Phil Coulson brushed his hand out in a sweeping gesture, indicating I should enter the conference room. I shrugged, handed him my bag, pushed some hair out of my face, and threw open the door. Tony Stark looked at me with a ton of skepticism.

"Who are you supposed to be?" he demanded. I raised one of my eyebrows.

"I'm the one that made your TV play _My Little Pony_ for three days straight," I snapped, deciding right then I could outdo him.

"That was _you?"_ he asked incredulously.

"Yup," I replied, satisfaction gleaming over my eyes.

"Who _are _you?"

"Quincy B. Robinson," I retorted.

"But… you're a girl!"

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**End Note: Please tell me what you thought. Just try and be understanding. And no swearing, please. I keep swearing out of my stories because I believe things sound better without it, so if you take the effort to choose a cleaner word, I'll think you're just that much more fantastic!**

**To "Shieldmaiden of Rohan": Thanks for the review! You're awesome! Glad you liked it! To "sass-mistress-lucifer": Don't worry, Quincy isn't over-powered with a tragic backstory and a cheesy love triangle. This one won't have romance. At all. Not this story. It would be more realistic if I knew anything about computers (all I can do is type stories...) so I'm not quite sure how well that'll go. But thanks for the review!**

**Thanks!**

**~Cass**


	3. Let's Get Started

**Author's Note: HAPPY MEMORIAL DAY! I wasn't expecting to put this up today, but feedback has been great, considering this has just barely started, and I know OFCs are looked down on in most fandoms, but Quincy is just too much fun! She's going to be the character that's usually featured in my Avengers ficlets (whenever I get around to writing them). It would be Violet-Sky from my other fic, but she's a little too deep in her own stories at the moment. I'm probably going to lose followers now for making Quincy a girl, but let me just say, the image of confusion on my readers' faces that I imagined was hilarious. And I'm sure someone already guessed. But I still promise there will be no romance. It's not that kind of story.**

**Usual Disclaimer on Every FanFiction Ever: I don't own Marvel or the Avengers characters. Just my OC and the general plot. (Are these really necessary? I mean, it's called _FanFiction_ for a reason!)**

* * *

"You sexist little—" I started to snap.

"Quinn," Natasha interrupted, cutting me off. But she looked ready to murder the billionaire herself. I was reminded of when I first met her—a couple years before she worked for SHIELD. She had been nothing more than a murderess back then. And I could see that in her burning green eyes. But I turned from her to Stark, my own anger building to dangerous levels.

"How can you think that just because I'm probably the only one that can get into that base that I'm a man?" I demanded of the genius. He looked a little lost for words. I licked at the dryness on my lips until it went away. "Just because _you're_ a genius—though I don't see how that's possible because you're so _thick_—doesn't mean that every other one on the planet has to be male!" I was working myself up into a quite impressive rage fit when Thor rose from the table, took my hand, and kissed my knuckles.

"Forgive the Metal Man, he has an atrocious lack of manners," the demigod apologized.

Alarmed, I yanked my hand out of his grip, my anger dissipating. "I'll say he does," I said sarcastically, flipping my reddish-brown braid off my shoulder. The God of Thunder kissed my hand again. It was all I could do not to shudder. Physical contact—human, Asgardian, or otherwise—was slightly foreign to me. I preferred the much more synthetic _caress_ of a good keyboard.

"Sorry, Robinson, he just asked what 'his' name was when we said there was only one person good enough to get into the fortress. I wanted to see the surprise on his face," Director Fury remarked apologetically. I huffed. The eye-patch-wearing man turned to Clint. "Please tell me you got a picture of his face." Okay. That actually made me snort. The billionaire's expression when he found out I was a girl was _pretty_ funny. The archer waved his phone before putting it in his jeans' pocket.

"Already on Facebook, Director," he remarked. I smirked.

"You'll have to text it to me," I told him. Natasha grinned and Hawkeye nodded, smirking mischievously. Thor resumed his seat, while Captain Rogers and Dr. Banner simply observed me. I could feel their eyes on the side of my face.

"Anyway, back to business?" Coulson prompted. I shot my eyes over to him. A nonchalant shrug was all I gave the whole room.

"I can get you in," I said. "I can hack past the mainframe in a couple minutes, tops. I've heard of this building. Tried to get in once actually. But that was during one of my school finals a couple years ago. I can do it now. Let's get started. What do you say?"

"I say we have a race," Clint remarked.

"A race?" I inquired, raising my eyebrows curiously.

"Yeah. Let's see if Quincy can hack past it faster than JARVIS and Tony."

One of my eyebrows lowered, leaving the other skeptically higher on my forehead. "What's a JARVIS?"

"It's the Artificial Intelligence you must have encountered when you got the Stark Tower to play a _little_ _girl's_ cartoon on the TV for three days straight with the power and mute functions not working," Clint informed me. I smirked.

"Oh. That one. Yeah. I met that code, easy to temporarily disassemble. Whaddaya say, Stark? Wanna see if a girl my age can beat you at computers?"

"Depends on what's in it for me," the genius replied, relaxing deeper into his chair.

"C'mon Stark! Don't have to have any stakes. Just race. When you see who wins, other gets the bragging rights," Natasha offered. I bit the inside of my cheek.

"I'll also let you have full run of one of my hacking programs," I said.

"Which one?"

"The one I used to get into your Tower and turn cable onto an embarrassing little girl's show for _seventy-two_ hours flat. You could hit something pretty hard with a code like that." I crossed my arms. "Black Widow, Hawkeye, Cap, Hulk, Thor, get ready. Stark and I will race from here. Give us the signal and we start."

* * *

The billionaire and I sat at identical computers. Tony was using JARVIS, I was using me and my codes. Both of us had earpieces in so we could hear the signal.

"_Okay, we're in position, better get started_," Steve said. His voice was quiet where he was, but to me it was loud and clear.

My fingers flew over the keyboard. The keys made comforting little clicking noises. I would take the clicking over the sucking kissy noises any hour of any day of any year. The keys were like old friends to me. The letters were constant no matter where I was—except that one time I went to Russia. Other than that I had never been out of an English-speaking country. England, Scotland, Ireland, that area.

Lines and lines of green code scrolled past on the black screen, probably reflecting off my dark eyes. I could see blue, more 3D-ish code reflecting in Tony's when I glanced up for a brief moment. _"Who's winning Coulson?"_ Dr. Banner asked through the earpieces. I heard Tony chuckle.

So I typed a little faster.

"Think Cold War," Coulson replied. I smirked, going even faster, remembering my old history class. In the Cold War, America had something like triple the amount of nukes the Soviet Union had, but since everything was confidential, America didn't know how many nukes the Soviet Union had, so they just kept going, thinking the Soviets were right on their tail. Turns out they weren't. But I was pretty sure Tony had no clue what that meant. He may have grown up during the Cold War, but I doubted he cared and if he did, he probably forgot.

So, either I was winning and he thought he was, or he was winning and I thought I was.

My fingers moved a little quicker, my eyes seeing the code as images. Boxes occasionally flashed. _Firewall Level 5, in-progress_. I closed out of it without even breaking a keystroke.

"_Soviet or American_?" Natasha asked with a snort.

"Yes," Coulson replied. I snorted. That was the most unhelpful reply.

Tony smacked the desk. "Got it!" he exclaimed. I smirked.

"Look again," I suggested. Another round of code reflected across his eyes. _Firewall 4 Accessed_ it said backwards in his dark irises. I put my tongue between my teeth. _Firewall 6, nearly complete_, my screen told me. As far as I could guess, there were seven or eight firewalls to break into the base. "Get ready," I warned the team out in the field. _Firewall 7 Accessed_. A quick glance to Tony. Backward I read _Firewall 6 Accessed._ I bit my lip. He was catching up.

Faster. Faster. I had to get through first. I wouldn't let him beat me. He needed to be dragged down from his high horse. His ego was taller than a redwood tree.

_Firewalls complete. Enter base?_ my old-fashioned, green-coded screen asked. I hit "Y". "Rock and Roll," I whispered into the earpiece.

_"No way!"_ Clint exclaimed. "_Did you beat him?"_

"By two whole firewalls," Coulson remarked. Nick Fury was chuckling in the background.

"_What?!" _Tony demanded. "How did you beat me?"

I raised my eyebrows mischievously. "I'm just _that_ _good_."

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**End Note: I love Quinn. She has a bit of pride herself, she's got her problems, but isn't that what makes characters lovable? The fact that they have flaws, like any given human being?**

**Anyway, please review/follow/favorite if you enjoyed this story or if you're curious.**

**To "AkaNeko-chan": Thank you! I'm trying to make it a little different from the usual FanFictions you see on here. I'm glad you found it interesting. Here's the next "chappy". To "sass-mistress-lucifer": I'm going to answer your questions all at once. 1 Maybe not sure. 2 Yes. 3 Sweats and a T-shirt _generally_ (like me). 4 Reddish-brown hair, black eyes, tan, the rest I'll save for later. 5 Haven't really thought about it, but to make it realistic, probably not like "I can charge headlong into any situation fearlessly". And no, it's not terrible that you see her as a female Q from James Bond. You're not being overbearing. I'm just glad you like it. And eventually, she _will_ be broken. To "FadingEcho12193": I'm ecstatic that you're happy Quinn's a girl. I was positive people would hate me because of it since there are _way_ too many OFCs in FanFiction. But I just couldn't help it. Tony's last line of that last chapter was just too priceless-even if it was just a little misogynistic.**

**Glad y'all enjoyed!**

**Thanks!**

**~Cass**


	4. My Reward

**Author's Note: Thanks guys for liking this! Experiments usually tank for me with my friends, so you guys are awesome! Thanks for all the great reviews and for the follows and favs! I love you guys! Wasn't expecting to have a new one so early, but it's been a good week. Tomorrow I'm posting the last chapter of Under a Violet Sky if anyone wants to read it!**

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I hadn't asked for anything in return for winning from Tony, but I got it. The chance to stay in Stark Tower for a couple of weeks. Explore his tech, take a look at the labs. He decided to call me his intern. I can't quite remember, but I think I smacked him for that—hard. He gave me my own room and told me to settle in. I rolled my eyes.

I was sitting awkwardly on the balcony for hours before Natasha Romanoff came out. "Dinner's ready," she offered. "And Clint won't admit it, but he makes a mean chocolate mousse dessert pie for after." I snorted.

"Thanks."

"What you did today, beating Tony," she started. "I think that was really good of you. He needed to be a little humbled. That was the fastest he's worked in years. Thank you for handing him his backside on a silver platter." She sat down next to me on the stone, warmed by the spring sun. I laughed, throwing my head back.

"Well, I always think celebrities are held in much-too-high regard. And he needed to be dragged off his high horse and kicked back into reality. I'm always happy to deal the kick."

"Are we having dinner out here or something?" Clint asked, poking his head out the glass door.

"Nah. Just laughing at my host's hubris," I replied coolly.

"That's a big word," the archer remarked.

"Well, I'm a big girl. I think I can handle it." I jumped up, edged around him, and disappeared back into the main body of the Tower, a mischievous smirk lighting my face.

"So, what's the B stand for?" Tony asked as Steve came into the room with an entire _pot_ of coffee in his hand. At first I was confused, then I remembered something one of them had told me about the super soldier's metabolism. So I shrugged it off. No big deal. Massive pot of coffee I couldn't drink for the life of me. Whatever.

"Brooklyn," I answered.

"I grew up in Brooklyn," the captain commented. I smirked.

"So did I," I said.

"Great. Something you two have in common. See Quincy, you're already making new friends," Tony Stark said. I rolled my eyes and disappeared into the elevator to go get some different clothes on for dinner.

I suppose I should mention that when I say I was given a room in the Tower, I meant I was given a whole flippin' floor. It was covered with a massive computer database, a bed tucked into one corner separated by a paper wall—like in Kung Fu Panda when he crashes through it like it's made of bamboo—probably because it is. Across the tiny bedroom was another door that led to a small bathroom with a shower. Next to the bed was a small closet. I dropped my duffel bag in there and changed.

I went back up to the floor with the balcony to find all the Avengers seated around a really big table. Thor was laughing at something, and everyone else looked shocked at how loud he was. Seriously? Had they never heard him laugh before?

"So what can we call you? Tony's got an idea to nickname you Quintessence," Banner commented when I sat down next to him. I snorted as a robot placed a plate of food in front of me. My black eyes gazed at the machine skeptically. In the corner of my vision, I could see the billionaire looking offended by my facial expression. I couldn't bring myself to care.

"Trust me, I've heard that one before. Most people call me Quinn, Q, or Robbie. I don't really care which. I respond to whatever."

"Well, eat something. Welcome to the Tower." He leaned closer so he could whisper so the others wouldn't hear. "Try that thing with the TV again. You should have seen Tony's face when he couldn't get _My Little Pony_ to turn off." I smirked as he pulled away.

"Dr. Banner," Tony remarked sarcastically, sounding like one of my junior high teachers. "Something you want to share with the rest of the table?"

"Nope," the scientist said, popping the _p_ just to be annoying. I smirked.

Clint did indeed make delicious pie. I decided that the second the fluffy dessert touched my tongue. I complimented him on it and watched as his ears turned a vibrant shade of red.

Later that night, I got back to my floor and sat at a computer to hack the cable network. Computers were distracting—as I'm sure you can testify since you're reading this. I typed away until there came a knock on the door. There was a tiny space between the elevator and the rest of the floor to give me my privacy. I turned and told whoever it was to come in. Dr. Banner's head appeared.

"Whatcha up to?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"Just following your advice. You may not want to be anywhere near a TV when I get in."

"Why are you telling me?"

"To thank you for being so kind," I said. The doctor left and I went back to my hacking. I had a brief train of thought about TRON while I opened up my best program.

_Command?_ it asked me.

_Access Stark Tower cable network_, I typed in.

_Access pending… Access pending… Access Granted. New command?_

_ Non-Stop Hannah Montana Songs, full volume._

At that moment, I was very glad that there was no cable on my floor as I hit _Enter._ Within seconds I could hear Tony Stark curse loudly from several floors above. It sounded like he'd shouted a Harry Potter spell. I wiped the hard drive of remembering my chip was even there, pulled it out of the USB port, hung it around my neck, turned off every single computer bank with the flick of a switch, and went into the small room. One wall was window. I lay down on my bed with my back to the door and pretended to be asleep.

Unlike Dr. Banner, Tony Stark burst through the door and came storming onto the floor. I smirked before regaining my composure and getting my fake-sleep face back on. "Quincy Brooklyn Robinson!" he exclaimed, throwing the paper door open. I didn't even jump. "What did you do to my TV?" I took a deep breath. Realistically feigning sleep was a great talent of mine that I had cultivated over many years of practice.

"Friend Stark, calm down. Maybe it wasn't her. Maybe someone else decided to irritate you by following her example," Thor said. I could sense Tony's dark eyes burning holes through the back of my head. After a moment his footsteps stormed over to the elevator. As the doors opened with a _ding_, I could hear the songs that were so popular when I was a tween blaring from several floors above.

Before I could even change into my pajamas, I felt a tug on my eyelids, and I was asleep.

* * *

**End Note: Ehehehehehe. She's just out to annoy the living daylights out of Tony. I'm having way too much fun with this. I love your feedback guys! Thanks again for being so cool!**

**To "FadingEcho12193": Obviously, she got something. I'll think about a JARVIS system for her. To "AkaNeko-chan": Thank you for liking Quinn. She's a blast to write. I'm glad she's not so "usual." To "Rainbor123": Yep. He got beat by a girl. Kinda crazy right?**

**Thanks!**

**~Cass**


	5. Dodge Ball

**Author's Note: 'Sup? I don't keep a whole bank of chapters for this story hidden away on my computer to put you guys in suspense. I usually put them up as I write them. So... yeah. This chapter was _meant_ to be funny, but since I don't know everyone's individual sense of humor... it might end up falling flat on your own personal scale. I'm not great at writing humor anyway...**

* * *

"What—exactly—is going on?" I asked sleepily the next morning, staggering from the elevator into the fitness center level, still in my now-wrinkled clothes from the day before. "What do you guys need me for this early in the—?"

I was promptly cut off by something smashing me in the gut. The rest of my sentence was drowned out in a guttural noise that didn't quite sound natural. My hands instinctively shot to protect the newly sore spot from any further damage. "HA! THAT'S PAYBACK FOR THE TV!" Tony Stark shouted. I glanced at the little foamy ball rolling away from me. I snagged it and hurled it at him full force. My aim was better than I expected—beginner's luck is my guess—and it nailed him right in the face, knocking him over.

Clint appeared from behind some of the fitness equipment, laughing his guts out. He had a whole duffel bag full of balls similar to the one Stark and I had just thrown. He dumped them out on the ground. Little tracks—like mini-trains—appeared from the ground and moved all the fitness equipment to the walls. The other Avengers came in, looking interested. "I propose a game of dodge ball!" the archer announced. He picked up a ball and launched it at his red-headed partner. I ducked to avoid it as it sailed past my head. I hit my shoulder on the floor painfully as Natasha caught the ball with one hand and flung it back at the archer, clocking him right in the temple.

"You're on!" she exclaimed. I pulled myself back to my feet and moved to the corner of the room. It was an old strategy from junior high dodge ball. Back then I got hit in the face a lot. So I'd stay in the corner and when a stray ball rolled my way, I'd throw it—usually at Tony.

Thor didn't seem to understand how to play dodge ball. He was trying to hit the flying foam with his hammer. It wasn't working very well. He had great aim, and he didn't often swing and miss, but he didn't get the concept of throwing. I rolled my eyes, put two fingers to my lips, and whistled, distracting just about every single player. I beckoned him over, jumping to the side to avoid getting hit again as a ball ricocheted off the wall next to me. "How does one play this?" he asked.

"You throw these," I informed him, brandishing one of the balls in his face. "Aim for whoever you want. You don't hit them with the hammer."

"Ah. Alright. Thank you, Lady Quincy." He gave me a quick bow, a kiss on the hand, and then lunged back into the game. I sat down on a workout machine's bench and observed, occasionally throwing foam at Stark and Barton. You could tell a lot about a person by how they played dodge ball. Steve was doing the best at actually dodging, but Natasha was right there behind him. Thor was getting hit _a ton_ but it didn't even faze him. Tony was throwing his ammunition in random directions not even looking where it was going. Hawkeye never missed—but that didn't surprise me. Dr. Banner was just trying not to get hit by Tony's wild, pointless trajectories. I watched them all with my black eyes taking everything in.

I wanted to go back to my computers. I liked them much better. Code was easier to predict than people. At least code never talked back.

Well, except for that JABBERS or whatever the thing's name was.

I chewed on one of my fingernails like I always did when I was nervous or bored or scared or quite simply just didn't know what to do with my hands. None of the others were paying attention to me anymore—something for which I was quite grateful. They were all superpowered or special in some way or another. Me? I was just a computer hacker. Couldn't fight physically to save my life.

I ducked under a flying projectile and heard it smash into the wall and bounce back to the group. A stray rolled right to my feet. I picked it up and threw it directly at Thor's face. My aim wasn't bad. It clocked him right in the eye. I half-expected him to just simply throw his hammer at _my_ face—since I was the only one so far that had hit his—but he whirled to glare at Tony and hurled a different one at the genius's gut.

I was laughing so hard I had to excuse myself as Natasha and Clint simply gave up using foam ammunition and began fighting each other. Slowly I sidled out of everyone's way and made toward the elevator. I think a couple balls hit the walls behind me, but I was gone before I got hit again.

"JABBERS or whatever your name is—" I started.

"It's JARVIS, Miss Robinson."

"Whatever. Can you take me to my floor? I need to check the news."

"Yes Miss Robinson."

I felt my innards drop to my feet as the elevator began to move. When I got out on my floor, I saw some staff member had placed a tray of breakfast precariously on the edge of one of the computer terminals. I picked up the muffin that physics and gravity said was going to make the whole thing fall over and shoved half of it in my mouth. I sat down at one of the many computers and pulled up a national news website. The very first thing that came up made me double over in laughter.

**The White House Cable Network Unable to Stop Playing Disney Songs—Secret Service Baffled—No Trace of Hacking**.

So it _had_ worked. Dang I was good.

I snapped the computer off and went striding over to my little room to get some clean clothes instead of the wrinkly ones I was still wearing from yesterday. While I was there, I took a quick shower, changed, ate the rest of my breakfast, did my hair, and went off to go see what everyone else was doing.

* * *

**End Note: Thanks for reading! Hope you're still enjoying. Feel free to follow/favorite/review. Have a great day!**

**To"callieandjack": Thank you so much! I don't know about her and Tony, but maybe. Tony said that last line of Chapter 1. To "Rainbor123": Thank you so much for your review! I'm glad you liked the interaction. The characters have so much potential to be adorable with_out_ being romantic. I'm trying that out with this story. To "FadingEcho12193": Hope you did well on your exams and got a good night's sleep. Glad you liked the chapter!**

**Thanks all!**

**~Cass**


	6. I'm the One Who's Gonna Break You

**Author's Note: So, my parents and I rented a bright red Ford Mustang convertible yesterday, and my eyes are wind-burned (or something, all I know is that they hurt) and I can't really see what I'm doing, so if there's mistakes, I'm sorry. **

**This fic is supposed to be a little shorter than Under a Violet Sky, so this is where the action gets started. Humor is still _slightly_ present, but I'm starting to make it a little more intense. Enjoy!**

* * *

Tony Stark was lying on the couch with his feet up on the arm. One of his clear glass laptops was on his lap and he was reading the same news I'd been looking at. "I wonder who could have done this," he remarked, sarcasm oozing out of every pore. I smirked, went over to the fridge, grabbed a can of lemonade, and went to sit on the other couch.

"Not me," I lied. "I tried the White House once. Firewalls were too good."

"Better than that supposedly unhackable fortress you just broke into?"

I pursed my lips. The real answer was no. The White House had really good security only Tony Stark and I had the ability to break into, but that fortress had been about three levels more difficult. "Yeah. It was harder." Lies were actually pretty easy. Stark bit at the bait.

"I feel like I owe you something more for being just that good," he remarked. I shrugged.

"Not necessary. Coming here and having a whole floor of computers is reward enough."

"No. You deserve more."

"I really don't. If you get one more stupid idea in that head of yours, I may smash it against the table," I threatened.

"That's dark for someone like you," Steve remarked, coming in. I put my tongue between my teeth to bite back the scathing retort that lurched to my throat ("_What exactly am I then?")_. Chewing an annoying fingernail, I glared at him with my black eyes until he got the message and went over to the kitchenette to find his pot of coffee. I crinkled my nose as he began to brew a new batch. I hated the smell of coffee. It reminded me of airports. I liked airports, but I hated the smell of coffee. It just smelled bitter. And I was _such_ a happy person that bitter smells put me in a bad mood.

"What's got your nose wrinkled up like a lizard's elbow?" Clint Barton asked, eyeing me as he came out of the elevator.

"I hate the smell of coffee."

"I take it you don't drink it then?"

"You take it correct," I replied, a little snappier than I'd initially intended. Tony Stark had stopped paying attention to us and was working on something that had been on the table with a little tiny precision screwdriver.

"What do you do for extra energy then?"

"Nothing."

"That's… different."

"Don't care."

"Here," Tony interrupted, passing me the little device he'd been working on. "Try this out, see if it works."

"What's it supposed to be?"

"I'm beta-testing a new, more portable version of JARVIS. Trying to adjust it so only the person who's holding it can hear him. I want to try it on a younger set of ears first." He placed the little sheet of glass in my outstretched hand as Steve went back to the stairwell with his pot of coffee. Clint decided our conversation about me being unusual was over and went striding over to the fridge in search of orange juice and a 5-Hour-Energy.

"Okay…" I trailed off.

"Say something to it."

"What's the binary code?" I asked.

"A coding system using the binary digits zero and one to represent digits or other characters in a computer or other electronic device."

"Of course _you'd_ ask him a question about codes," Tony muttered sarcastically. I narrowed my eyes threateningly.

"JABBERS _is_ a code," I snapped, getting the AI's name wrong on purpose just to annoy him. I was more the type to get it wrong once and never again. But watching Tony's eyes narrow made it totally worth it to get it wrong. "Did you hear what it said?"

"Yes. Give it back. I need to try again."

I shrugged and passed him back the little slab of glass.

* * *

My floor was abandoned. Of course it was. I was the only one that inhabited it. The computers were all humming idly on their banks of desks. I wiggled the mouse of one of them and opened up a window. _Hey Mom_, I typed in.

_Quinn! How are you?!_ My mom replied within seconds, like she always did.

_Fine. I'm in Stark Tower._

_ How'd you end up there, baby?_

_ I hacked into the Ripple Base. Stark was impressed and told me to be his intern for a couple months. :-S_

_ Fun! Tell me everything!_

_ There's not much to tell. I have a whole floor to myself. The floor is full of computers. That's where I'm sending this from. Captain America can drink a whole pot of coffee by himself before it takes effect. Clint and Stark seem to enjoy dodge ball. Thor doesn't seem to_

Before I could finish my sentence, I felt a hand close around my mouth. I shrieked through it. As I was dragged from my chair, I saw my mom's username pop up again. _Quinn? Are you okay?_

Something was shoved under my nose. It smelled sickly sweet. I felt myself fading. "Guys!" I cried with my last breath before I lost consciousness and everything went black.

* * *

I woke up with a blistering headache pounding at my temples. My throat was dry. My hands were bound behind my back with something that felt like rope. I could feel my fingernails were sharp and ragged and my wrists were burned from the rope. My hair—usually untamable anyway—was drifting in my face. I tried to push it out of my eyes with my shoulder, but it wasn't working.

"The famous Quincy Brooklyn Robinson," a dark voice commented. I struggled against the ropes holding me to the hard chair I was in. My head was killing me.

"Who are you? What do you want with me?" I demanded. There came a chuckle and a dark figure came into my range of vision. I could see a hood pulled over the man's head. It was so deep it cast his face in shadows. I narrowed my eyes at him. I could see his white teeth from the shadows. Okay. That was only _slightly_ creepy. I took a deep breath, gathering my courage. He was creepy—whoever he was—but he was also scary. I could feel shivers running up my arms. I was _not_ getting good vibes from this guy and the eerie smile he was giving me.

"I'm the one who's gonna _break_ you, sweetheart," he replied.

* * *

**End Note: Dun, dun, DUN! Here goes nothing!**

**To "FadingEcho12193": Glad your first day of summer was so much fun with so many new updates! To "FanFicVaporeon": Yeah, it took me a while to decide where she placed the Disney songs, but it was worth it. To "callieandjack": Yeah, JABBERS. And I secretly wish they make that into a future scene in future Avenger movies too. To "acompletenerd": Thank you for saying that I can write humor. I struggle so hard with it. I'm really glad you like Quinn. To "Sapphire Roz": Um... I don't know about Loki. Probably later. Quinn's going to be my OC for like... every Avenger ficlet I write (most of them based on memes and stuff I've seen on Facebook) and one of them has to do with Loki. I think every ficlet will just be under this title though so I don't have to keep making new ones, but who knows? So, he might show up then. To all the people who didn't review and are too lazy to go look at what the reviewers asked or said: First of all, I hear ya. I like... hardly ever look at the reviews on stories I'm reading. Second of all, thank you for reading this story. It means a lot to me.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**~Cass**

**PS: For those of you who read Under a Violet Sky, hope you caught my little 5-Hour-Energy reference. ;-)**

**PPS: GUYS! For those Doctor Who fans out there: I just realized that Quincy's mom's name would be MRS. ROBINSON! Remember? From "The Impossible Astronaut" and "Day of the Moon"? With River and - and - I think I'm going to pass out from how that was a complete coincidence. But, as the Doctor says, "Coincidences are the universe's way of having fun." So, I'll take it as a good thing. Okay. I'm done now. Cass out.**


	7. Anyone Seen Quincy?

**Author's Note: Hey guys! Wassup? I'm on vacation in an undisclosed location surrounded by forests, mountains, and fields. I feel like I'm about to get thrown into a ****_Supernatural_**** episode. But, anyway, I have a new chapter to post. I had nine reviews on the last chapter, and I'd like to thank you nine people for taking some time out of your days to give me a little bit of your thoughts on how I write. Thank you!**

* * *

"Guys? Has anyone seen Quincy?" Steve asked, walking in from the elevator. Morning was dawning outside the window. Tony was drinking from a mug of coffee. Clint and Natasha were cleaning their weapons on the table. Bruce was looking out the window at Thor—who was hitting something with his hammer. The two assassins shrugged.

"Quintessence went to her room last night," Tony replied distractedly, opening a holographic newspaper and flipping it to the stocks page. "Hasn't come out since."

"I was just _at_ her room," Steve retorted. "One of the computer's chairs was overturned with a chat room window open. She'd been talking to her mom. She'd stopped writing midsentence. I could smell something like chloroform in the air."

Everyone—even Thor who could somehow hear them—turned to look at him. "Someone chloroformed Quinn?" Clint asked.

Steve nodded. "Yeah. Can't find her anywhere. JARVIS says she's not here."

"J is that true?" Tony asked.

"Affirmative."

"All in favor of tracking her down?" Clint suggested. Five other hands raised, but not quickly. "All opposed?" No one raised their hands.

_Ding!_

The elevator doors opened again, revealing Coulson talking to someone on his phone. "We just got a report that Quincy Robinson is missing," he remarked, as if commenting on the weather. Steve raised his eyebrows at the man's tone.

"Does SHIELD know where she is?"

"Nope."

"Then what's the point of having you?" Tony asked sarcastically, opening up a different hologram with a tracking program.

"What are you doing?" Bruce asked.

"Quintessence has a computer chip around her neck. I noticed it yesterday when she was testing out my new JARVIS idea. That computer chip will emit a signal. It'll be tiny, but they can't have gotten far. When was she talking to her mom Capsicle?"

"Last night."

"Okay, so maybe they could've gotten a little further. Better widen the range a little bit," Tony mumbled to himself, spreading the blue circle of where it could find things to the entirety of New York City. "Where would they take her…?" He spun a little holographic wheel and zoomed in on a couple abandoned warehouses near the outskirts of the city. "Not impossible… not unlikely…" He rubbed idly at his goatee while Natasha and Clint cleaned their weapons a little faster. "Bingo! Let's go get Harlequin!"

* * *

_Shwack! _Punched, I groaned and turned back to face "The Breaker" as he'd told me to call him, shaking my hair out of my face. I could feel a double-black-eye and a couple other bruises forming on my face. It wasn't as bad as the rope burns on my wrists and ankles. Or the cut on my forehead that was oozing blood into my eye. I wanted to crumple to the floor and protect my head with my arms, crying, but I was stuck where I was. And where I was was the corner of In and Pain. I rolled my shoulders, trying not to feel anything.

But that didn't change the fact that tears were streaming down my face, salt stinging open cuts. I'd been trying to free my wrists or cut the ropes for a good two hours. I was beginning to lose hope that anyone was coming to help me.

"The great Quincy Robinson, the best computer hacker of her generation, and here she sits, helpless, hopeless, and captive, at my mercy," the Breaker taunted. I clenched my jaw.

"Helpless and hopeless I may be, you _twit_, but brainless and witless I am not," I spat past the blood that had been drizzling into my mouth from about ten little cuts on my face. Most of them wouldn't leave a scar, but the one on my forehead would.

"Be that as it may, no one's coming for you." The Breaker's strange white smile appeared from inside his hood again and he pulled something out of his pocket. It was a large silver dagger. I'd seen one like it on a TV show once. The blade was thin, and it looked wickedly sharp. "Hmm. Where should we start, Miss Robinson? Where should we start making the breaking point?" I didn't deign to answer him. The ropes were frayed—I could feel them against my fingers. Biting my fingernails had one advantage—my fingers were sensitive. They could tell differences between fibers that other people couldn't. I'd never been sure why, I just always sort of assumed it came from the fact that biting my nails made them hurt and more receptive of pain.

The Breaker approached me and cut the collar of my T-shirt down to the bottom of my sternum, revealing the tank top I wore under it. It was low-necked, exposing most of my chest. He touched the tip of his finger to the point of the knife. He twirled it, the blade flashing in the poor light right into my eyes—which had long since adjusted to the dark mists that seemed to fill the area. "Ooh. I know exactly where to start. It's obvious really. We start with the heart."

I froze in my seat, every muscle turning to ice. The cold point of the knife traced the skin just over my heart. I took a breath deep in my torso so my chest didn't move.

My shriek started because it takes about a pound of pressure to break human skin. We're not exactly hardy creatures are we? As the dagger punctured my epidermis, the pain tore like fire through my entire body. I wanted to be brave, to not give him the satisfaction of a reaction, but it hurt so hard I had to scream. I had to cry. My body reacted before my mind could order it to stop. A tear fell off my chin and landed right on the new, open cut. The salt water stung like a bee, making me cry even more.

Yeah, let's just say that by that point I was ready to _die._ I was in so much pain black dots were swimming over my vision. I couldn't gather up the courage to look at the Breaker as he sliced open my skin. I stared straight up, tears falling from both corners of my eyes. I was screaming, desperately wishing for an out. Desperately wishing to die.

At this point, just to lighten the mood, I'd try and make a pathetic attempt at humor. But uh… in all honesty… I can't think of anything. I don't know if you've ever tried to make a sadistic torturing funny. I haven't. Up till now I mean. There're no jokes that I can think of. So you're on your own for that.

My vision was quickly turning black. I couldn't process anything. Fire was wracking my entire body, I was sure of it. I couldn't see any light, so my disillusioned brain assumed it was black fire.

_BANG! _The door to wherever it was we were burst open.

* * *

**End Note: As a side note, using the term Harlequin is in no way a reference to the Batman villain. I don't know a lot of DC (obviously Marvel is more my thing), but in my English class we had harlequin as a vocabulary word and it meant a clown. Among other things I suppose. And I figured Tony would call her more than just Quintessence.**

**To "xXSirenSongXx": Thank you so much! I'm glad you liked it! To "acompletenerd": Sorry. Every fanfiction writer is just a little mean aren't they? I just couldn't resist a good cliffhanger. At least it wasn't as bad as the one in Under a Violet Sky when they were in Park City, Utah. I had a lot of angry reviews at that... To "callieandjack": You can't get at him just yet, my friend. I still need him. And Quincy isn't exactly little (she'd resent and sass you off for calling her "little" by the way). To "leebee14": I'm still going. I'm happy you love it! To "FadingEcho12193": No offense, but I'm not 100% sure how to respond to that. To "McKennaSuaveDaughterofPoseidon": That is one long username to type out. Thanks, my eyes do feel better. Got chlorine in them (from swimming) the day after they were wind-burned, but they're much better now. What kind of musician are you (I play flute)? To "Rainbor123": Here's your update my friend. To "FanFicVaporeon": Oh yes, a cliffhanger! To "Sapphire Roz": So excited you liked it! I hope the wait was worth it!**

**Thanks guys!**

**~Cass**


	8. Geode

**Author's Note: Hello my fellow readers and writers! For those who are reading Under a Violet Sky too, just know that I'm writing this at the same time, and trying to update them within one or two days of each other, along with novels/stories I want to publish one day. Also, if "production" slows down, it's because my time is kind of being taken up by _Supernatural_ right now. I've recently forced myself to get into it and I like it. So my writing has taken up less time. But, you didn't follow this story to hear me ramble, so here's the chapter!**

* * *

"Oh… my… goodness," Steve managed to get out. Quincy was sitting on a chair, wrists and ankles bound by rope, quite simply covered with blood. Her head was tilted back, blank black eyes staring straight up. She was borderline unconscious. Her chest was cut open, and her face had several splits.

"Boy, you said it, Cappy," Tony commented. "Get her outta here. We'll take care of Mr. Knifey over there."

Natasha and Steve rushed to the young hacker. Her reddish-brown braid even had blood in it. The assassin cut Quinn's ropes and Steve hoisted her out of the chair. Clint, Tony, Bruce, and Thor surrounded the man who had her tied to the chair.

* * *

I vaguely heard a voice that sounded like Tony's demanding to know who the Breaker worked for. But I was mostly conscious of a swaying and rocking motion that was comforting but sickening at the same time. I was fighting a haze that was settling over my mind. My eyelids were fluttering, but I couldn't see anything anyway. I was _way_ too blinded by pain. My body was screaming at me that I required medical attention. _No flippin' duh,_ I snapped at what was left of my consciousness.

"No, no, no, no, no, no! _Quinn!_ Come on, stay with us! Come _on_ Quinn!" I couldn't tell whose voice it was, but if I had to guess I'd say it was… Bruce's. Maybe it was Steve's. In the moment, I thought it was my dad, but I was later informed that only the Avengers, the Breaker, and I were in that old abandoned warehouse. So now I'm left guessing. Hahaha. I guess I've never really bothered to ask. "Quinn? Come on kiddo! You know you're stronger than this! _I_ know you're stronger than this!" There was that voice again. Honestly I couldn't think straight. I could feel pain wracking the fibers that built up my body and made me who I was. They were tenuously sewn together. I was broken. Even if I wasn't _that_ far, I was breaking and so close to broken there was only a hair's breadth difference. My body was cold, but at the same time it was on fire.

"Quincy Brooklyn Robinson!" a different voice snapped. Through my haze I didn't know who it was. Black was ringing my mind and everything was fading. "Don't you even _think_ about dying on me! You have hundreds of other adventures to endure! You're a better fighter than this! Even computer hackers have more power in them than you're displaying right now. So you get off your cloud and get your backside back in reality!" I made some incoherent grumbling noise. "Quintessence! So help me! You survive this right now! Who else is going to test out JARVIS?"

"Tony," the first voice said, sounding much calmer. "She's lost a lot of blood and her heart is very nearly exposed. She'll die if we don't get her medical attention immediately."

"I shall take her to your place of healing." Thor's deep rumble of a voice managed to make sense somewhere in my foggy thoughts. Because I nodded weakly. I felt a different pair of arms take me up. "I advise you to transport the strange hooded man to a holding cell until he can be dealt with." I made some sort of pained noise and felt a swoop in my stomach.

I don't know if we flew or what, because at about that moment I blacked out, and there was no way in Jotunheim and the other Eight Realms that I was waking up.

* * *

Lots of beeping. Medical instruments doing their jobs. Something hard but at the same time puffy was under my skin. I could feel it where most of my weight seemed to settle on my scapulae and sacrum. All over my face I could feel the annoying pull of bandages. I thought I could feel a hand on my arm, but I was too distracted by an uncomfortable squeezing on my chest. "Sleep, Quincy, sleep," a voice whispered to me. "You need your sleep." I scrunched up my face in pain. A beeping somewhere sped up. "Quinn, listen to me, if you don't rest, you'll kill yourself. The pain will kill you. And then Tony will kill you again. He's already planning a full recovery party."

I groaned softly. I didn't have the energy to make it any louder and my throat was dry as desert sands. "Who… you?" I managed to choke out. Styrofoam was pressed to my sore lower lip and I felt water enter my mouth. After a moment, I swallowed.

"This is Coulson. We've been taking turns watching over you."

"Thank… you…"

"I'm going to up your sleep medication. Try to rest."

I heard a hissing of machinery, a quick drip, and my eyelids—which hadn't even opened—grew heavy and sticky. Before I could say anything, I was out again.

_I was sitting with a brown rock in my hand on a grassy mountainside. Wind played at the wisps of hair that had escaped my braid and fluttered in my face. I could see a small fissure in the side of the roundish stone. With my fingernail—_that was only long enough because I was dreaming_—I pried it open. The two halves fell out of my grip and landed in my lap. I gasped and almost made them fall off of my lap. Gleaming in the center were violently violet crystals. I pressed my fingers against their rough, cube-ish shapes and ran my fingers over them, savoring the feeling of their chaotic order. _Geode,_ I thought. I'd always loved geodes. They were so beautiful. But you didn't see the beauty unless you cut the stone. No._

_ Broke it._

* * *

**End Note: Don't know how many chapters of this thread are on after this. Not too many though. I need to explain what's going to happen here. I'm going to write several ficlets based on memes and funny things on Facebook. Instead of coming up with an OC for all of them (because they're like "Based on your birth month, what are you to Loki?" like "January - his servant", "February - his soul-mate" ETC), so I'm just going to keep using Quincy. And whether or not this one happened in the upcoming stories... I don't know. They may, or they may not. It depends on if it'll help the story. Quincy will still be the same, with pretty much the same backstory, but maybe once in a while it'll be tweaked. They'll all be posted under this title so I don't have to clutter my "My Stories" list with fics that are only a few chapters long. If you're still confused, just ask me your questions and I'll try and explain. It makes perfect sense in my head I promise. The chapter titles will have the new parts. Part two right now is looking like it'll be called "Cookies for _" (spoilers on the character). There's my little teaser. Hehehe.**

**To "Demigod-GallagherGirl": I'm glad you read Violet Sky too, and happy you enjoy QBR! To "leebee14": I'm trying to do better at responding to reviews. :-) To "TimeDWLord": First of all, awesome username. Second, this one'll get pretty long as the parts start piling up... To "Sapphire Roz": So glad the wait is worth it! To "acompletenerd": Motive is still unknown. Give me a couple days, maybe a couple hours. It'll be in the next couple chapters. Promise. To "McKennaSuaveDaughterofPoseidon": Sorry. I can't resist a decent cliff hanger. To "FadingEcho12193": Trust me, he'll get karate chopped a little farther than New Mexico... To "Lorelei Tatsuye Marivaine" Sorry I wasn't clear. Quinn doesn't live with her parents. She didn't run away, she just moved out, but keeps in touch. To "thewriterstory": Trying my best not to make her a Mary Sue. She's not romantic, and I was led to believe that a Mary Sue was created to be perfect for such-and-such a character. To "Rainbor123": He will be kicked. To "FanFicVaporeon": General rule of writing my friend: _never_ kill the villain unless they absolutely deserve it. Don't know if this guy does... To "callieandjack": Thanks for being my ever-faithful reviewer. You can be let at him now, but there's very little point. He will be punished. (PS "callieandjack" have you checked out the new UaVS? I don't think you reviewed it... I know you're busy, but just curious.)**

**As always, THANKS!**

**~Cass**


	9. Party

**Author's Note: Guys, this chapter is almost twice as long as my usual chapters. Because I didn't know how to end it. So I hope you enjoy. For those of you who are reading my other story ****_Under a Violet Sky_**** as well, I just want you to know I think I'm putting up the first chapter for the sequel tomorrow. *Cough* callieandjack I'm looking at you! *Cough***

**Hope you enjoy the new chapter!**

* * *

"No," I snapped. I didn't like to get snippy with Natasha 'cause she could kick my trash into next year, but there was no way.

Oh. Hi. I'm still Quincy Brooklyn Robinson. But you knew that didn't you? I can imagine a few incredulous and confused expressions. You're wondering what happened to me after the dream aren't you? (If you weren't, you probably are now…) Well, to be honest, nothing really. They locked the Breaker in a holding cell in the Triskellion basement, and I woke up again to horrendous amounts of pain still tearing through my body. It took about a week of me lying around all day doing nothing to fully recover—but you should have _seen_ Clint's face when I finally woke up again for good. He was the one watching over me and I woke with a loud girly shriek. He leapt out of the armchair and nearly hit his head on the tray next to my bed.

"Quincy B. Robinson," Natasha warned. "You are wearing this to Tony's party, and you are going to like it!"

I rolled my black eyes. "Nat," I retorted. "Do you _see_ the neckline on that thing?" I was really working myself up into a good fit of frustration.

"Yes. It's not like it's too revealing."

"That's not what I'm worried about." I ripped my comfy blue T-shirt off and threw it on the ground full force, leaving me standing there in just my tank top. "_This_ is what I'm worried about!" I spat, jabbing one of my fingers deep into the scar on my heart. It was a lot longer than it had been initially because apparently flying me to the hospital in Thor's big Norse arms tore it. "Do you think for _one second_ that people won't stare? That people won't whisper about me with their hands shielding their mouths so I won't see? Because I _don't!_"

"Don't go getting all emotional on me," Natasha said sarcastically.

"Just because you're an emotionless robot doesn't mean I have to be—just like the fact that I don't have to be a man to be a genius because Tony is one! I just got out of the freakin' hospital two days ago, I can be emotional if I _dang_-well please!" I shouted.

Natasha—quite unamused and threateningly I might add—folded her arms over her ribs and began to tap her foot, one bright red eyebrow raised up higher than the other. She was probably waiting for me to apologize. But I had worked myself up into such a fit—unnecessarily—that there was _no way_ I was going to say I was sorry right then. Quite simply, it wasn't going to happen. I wasn't apologizing, and I _wasn't_ wearing what she wanted me to wear.

* * *

So how I ended up in the glittery scarlet dress and the three-and-a-half-inch heels to match is _honestly_ a complete mystery to me. I also don't remember how my hair ended up getting torn out of its usual braid and done up in a fantastic curly up-do that I was going to be pulling at in the next five minutes. All I remember was beginning to walk into the huge ballroom that was on one of the floors of Stark Tower.

There weren't a lot of people there for the party. Tony and Pepper, Thor and his sort-of girlfriend Jane, Bruce, Steve, Natasha and Clint, Coulson and some woman I'd never seen before with dark hair done up in a tight bun—later identified to me as Agent Maria Hill—Fury and some woman I'd never seen before and no one else knew either, and last but certainly not least, my parents. Mr. and Mrs. Robinson were over by the punch. It was a dark red that reminded me eerily of the blood that I'd been soaked in about a week before. Yeesh.

I never told you much about my parents did I? Why I didn't live with them, why I ended up travelling English-speaking countries (and that one time I went to Russia) hacking computers. There's not much to tell. I finished high school three years early (only graduating freshman in my school ever) and moved out to go to college—which I graduated after my first year too. I'd always been a good hacker, but in college I'd taken it to almost dangerous levels. And since I'd moved out, my loving parents weren't there to help me out. I'd done all sorts of weird hacks and probably committed every computer crime the government had a law for. I don't know really. Next thing I know, Phil Coulson is sitting next to me asking me to come help the Avengers hack into the Ripple Base.

My parents saw me from across the ballroom. Both rushed to me and flung their arms around me. I felt like crying again. Both of them ran their fingers down the scar on my forehead and touched the one on my chest that was clearly visible. Unconsciously I flinched away from their fingers. "Oh we're sorry baby!" my mom exclaimed. "That must hurt!"

"Not as much as my feet do in these shoes," I amended sarcastically, pulling up the hem of my skirt to show the annoying heels. My parents both grinned.

I didn't realize that the party was about to get bigger. Over the course of the next hour people came in waves. The only people who knew the occasion for the party was me, my parents, and the Avengers—and those they brought with them.

"Miss Quincy Robinson," a voice stated. I turned. It was the woman I saw before with Coulson that had the severe dark bun. "My name is Agent Maria Hill."

My first instinct was to be sarcastic and ask if her first name was _Agent_ or _Maria_. But I bit it back, thinking it would be a bad idea to get on SHIELD's bad side given the major event I'd just gone through. "Hi Maria. Call me Quinn." She grabbed my forearm and led me to one of the tables that bordered the outside edges of the room and sat me down.

"The man who was torturing you," she started.

"What about him?" I demanded edgily. Did I even want to know?

"We had him interrogated. We found out who he was working for. We're assuming he's telling the truth, but you never know. The name he gave us is a man named Thomas Williams. Do you know him?" Maria asked me.

I put my tongue between my teeth in thought. _Thomas Williams… Thomas Williams…_ I turned the name over and over in my head, trying to pull something out of the ether that was my brain. Somewhere in my vast memory banks… did that name mean anything? "Off the top of my head, I can't say I do," I replied. "I'm sorry." Maria shrugged and assured me she didn't think I would know him—whoever he was. She figured he'd just heard of me or maybe I'd hacked into his company once and I didn't know it was his.

I excused myself quite quickly and made my way into the pristine ladies restroom. In one of the stalls, I lifted up the hem of my dress. I didn't know why unmarried women were supposed to wear garters under their skirts, but the one Natasha had somehow got onto me had a small pouch that held a small glass panel—Tony's new JARVIS system. So I pulled my dress up to my thigh and extracted the glass. "US Census database search please," I said to it.

"Name?" JARVIS asked British-ly.

"Thomas Williams."

For the next five minutes I went scrolling through dozens of results of the American Census over the past one hundred years. I figured I couldn't be away from the party for much longer than seven minutes before people started wondering where I was. None of the men I looked at would have any reason to hire the Breaker to torture me. None of them owned a business I had hacked into at any time in my life, none of them _worked_ for a company I had hacked into at any time in my life. So why would he want me? Whoever he was?

I had just moved to leave when a thought struck me.

What if he wasn't American?

I rubbed the scar on my forehead thoughtfully before deciding to ask JARVIS a few questions. "Is there a man in Britain or Australia with the name Thomas Williams that would have any reason to harm me?" I asked. A colorful little circle spun on the screen to show it was loading.

"Hack signature required," it replied. Of course. If a Thomas Williams owned a company I had hacked, there would need to be a trace that I'd hacked it for JARVIS to be able to tell.

"A QBR in the corner of the screen," I told it.

"Quincy Brooklyn Robinson has hacked the company of a Thomas Williams from London, England two times in the past."

"What's the name of the company?"

"Nordic Incorporated."

I put my head in my hands and shut the plate of glass off. I remembered that job—_those_ jobs. It had been painfully easy. And now Mr. Williams was out to get me for doing the job his employees had hired me to do: Break into their systems to see where they needed to improve security. I'd told them most of the truth but kept a few back ways secret and unknown in case I ever needed to get into their servers ever again for any reason.

I left the bathroom and went back out into the ballroom. Steve grabbed me from behind as I moved to go talk to Coulson. "Dance with me," he insisted.

"What for?" I demanded testily.

"No reason at all. You're recovered, and you're back with us. That's all that matters."

* * *

**End Note: Hope you enjoyed. Anyone notice my Easter Eggs? I'm not telling you what they are because then you wouldn't have noticed them. Tehehe. Sorry.**

**To "WhovianTributeSherlockian": Her Dad is still alive obviously, and no she's not going to be paired with anyone. Thanks for saying she'd be suited to Steve though, that's why I had him come dance with her. If you want a romance written by yours truly, you'll have to read my sequel to Under a Violet Sky when I start putting it up tomorrow. The main character in that is paired with Steve actually. To "Lorelei Tatsuye Marivaine": You're very welcome, sorry for the confusion. To "Demigod-GallagherGirl": Thank you very much! To "callieandjack": The UaVS sequel is coming tomorrow! Hehehe. And of course I wouldn't be that cruel. Why would I rip Quincy away from you when I love her so much myself? No, I need to keep her alive for my other ficlets. To "Rainbor123": They won't be one-shots because I have a novel-length mindset for how I write. I'm not good at _short_. They will probably all be about nine or ten chapters each. But yes, it will continue. They'll even be under this title too so people don't have to go hunt down others. To "FadingEcho12193": Not sure. Her heart wasn't actually damaged, but she lost a lot of blood. So I think I'll leave that up to you and your imagination. What do _you_ think? To "acompletenerd": Quincy wasn't made to be deep. She has to be pliable to I can put her in other stories and situations. The plot is slightly lacking for a similar reason, so I can bend and mold things. Sorry she's not exactly how you'd like her. On the other hand, I think she's a little bit deeper than half of the OFCs I've seen on here. (No offense to anyone.) To "FanFicVaporeon": Um... I highly suggest you put that tank back from wherever you got it from. I suppose you can shoot him though if it makes you feel any better. To "Sapphire Roz": Thank you very much! To "leebee14": Thank you as well!**

**Thanks everyone for reading!**

**~Cass**


	10. Pt 2 Ch 1 Cookies for Loki

**Author's Note: Hey guys! I decided that last chapter was a decent way to end that bit of the story, so I'm moving on to the next ficlet. It's entitled "Cookies for Loki," and I suppose I should explain why. On Facebook (and I'm ****_positive_**** it originated from Tumblr, but I found it on Facebook) is a little birthday game. The days of the month were what you were going to do, and the month was who you were going to do aforementioned activity with. My birthday is the 14th of November (which reveals absolutely nothing about me since I share my birthday with 9Million people), and the 14th said "You will make cookies for..." and November said "Loki." So that's where this comes from. Longer A/N than usual, but I thought the absurdity needed some slight explanation.**

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Rain pounded the roof and thunder churned in the dark gray clouds. The smell of chocolate chip cookies wafted through the small apartment. I stood straight from where I had bent over in front of the oven, watching the baking pastries, and turned. A smirk lit up my lips.

Loki was handcuffed to my counter, looking annoyed. "What did you say your name was again, mortal?" he asked.

"Quincy Brooklyn Robinson," I replied with a lot of cheer for a rainy day.

"You are aware of how irksome you are, correct?"

"Yup! And you're chained to my counter while I make cookies."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Oh. I thought we were both saying things that were horrifically obvious." I beamed at him. Loki rolled his eyes to the ceiling while I smiled with annoying cheer just to get a rise out of him. As a general rule, I figured he was intolerant of us "mortals" and hated when we were happy. So the second he showed up in my apartment I cuffed him to the counter and went about making cookies. "So, is the weather stormy because Thor knows you're in town or something?" I asked. Loki's face reddened with anger and his icy blue eyes narrowed at me dangerously. He tugged on the handcuffs, and I started laughing. "You're stronger than just about every human being on this Earth, but you ain't strong enough to break those handcuffs. I had _Thor_ try them out."

"You insolent little—"

_Ding-Dong!_

"Hold that thought," I ordered him, holding one finger out. Jogging to my front door, I opened it. My friend and roommate Rachel was standing there, smiling and looking happy, but at the same time exhausted. "Rae! Where have you been? You've been gone for weeks!"

"Long story. Tell you later." She stopped, staring over my shoulder in confusion. "Why is there a guy in a costume cuffed to the counter?"

Loki twisted around to glare at her. "This is not a costume you pathetic mortal! I am _Loki!_ This is the royal garb of Asgard!" he spat. I half-expected Rachel to flip out and slash him with—was that a dagger I saw hanging from her belt? Where had she _been_?—her fingernails. Until I saw the knife of course. It was more of a stiletto if I had to say so myself. Completely silver from point to hilt to pommel. Vaguely I wondered where she got it from and why she had it, but I had more pressing issues.

Rachel's pale gray eyes flashed dangerously and her hand slid to the hilt of the blade. In a moment she had crossed over to him and was murmuring something—probably threatening—in his ear. Her new weapon was pressed against the skin of Loki's throat. I slowly edged closer and listened. "Look you overgrown twerp! I have spent the past several weeks with my nerves stretched so thin they were about to break. I don't need any more smart-aleck remarks from bratty demigods with daddy issues." My eyebrows crawled higher and higher up my head with each dark word my roommate said. She was usually so mild-tempered and good-natured. This sudden reversal of her temperament shocked me.

"Rachel. He's not getting out of those cuffs. How about you go take a shower and calm down. My cookies will be ready by the time you're done."

"They smell delicious by the way," Rachel commented. She passed me her knife. "Hold onto this. It'll kill him faster than most earthly weapons." I took the hilt carefully. After a bad incident a couple months back with a knife splitting me open, I was pretty apprehensive around them, but I didn't want Rachel to shower with it. So I took it.

My roommate stomped off to her room and I heard the shower turn on.

"Something's got her wired," I muttered, checking the cookies.

"You got that right." Loki _agreed_ with me? My eyebrows shot into my hairline and my black eyes blinked with shock.

* * *

I was just pulling the cookies out of the oven—rain still barraging the roof—when Rachel came back in. Her brown hair was pulled into a fresh, wet braid—like mine—and her eyes were sparkling. She reached out to grab a cookie, but I slapped her hand away. "Wait until they've cooled," I scolded.

"Sorry. I can't remember the last time I ate," she murmured.

"That explains why you're cranky," I joked. "Sit down, let me hold onto your dagger, and don't kill Loki. I'll make you a sandwich."

"I can make myself my own dang sandwich," Rachel muttered darkly.

"I know. But I can see by your eyes that you're exhausted. When was the last time you slept?"

"Weeks maybe?"

"Dang." I set about the kitchen making an easy PB&J sandwich for my best friend and getting the cookies off the cookie sheet and onto the cooling rack. Setting a paper plate in front of her and a cookie in front of Loki, I sat on the counter and propped my feet up. "How do they taste?" I asked Loki. He was sort of nibbling on one edge, like he was wondering if I poisoned them.

"Adequate," he replied, taking a slightly larger bite.

I snorted. "Don't be so prissy. I make killer cookies," I snapped playfully.

Instantly Loki spewed crumbs everywhere. "_Killer?!"_ he demanded. "Are you trying to poison me?" Rachel almost fell into her sandwich she was laughing so hard.

"No you moron!" she snapped through her gales of laughter. "She means they taste fantastic!"

Loki's icy blue eyes narrowed at me as I rolled off the counter, giggling like a schoolgirl. "It is _not_ amusing. Do _not_ mock me!" he spat at me. I stood up straight, my fingers touching the pommel of Rachel's dagger—which I had slipped into my belt.

"You're not in any position to be making threats, Your Most Royal Highness," I fired back. "Last time I checked, _you_ were the one handcuffed to the table, not _me_."

My roommate's eyes widened and her eyebrows rose higher up her forehead. "Looks like we both went through a lot, huh?" she asked. I nodded, pulling on the end of my reddish-brown braid.

* * *

**End Note: Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed. I'm a little busy right now to respond, but I love all of you. This ficlet will be a little shorter than the last one, but I hope you like it anyway!**

**Thanks!**

**~Cass**


	11. Pt 2 Ch 2 Kudos for Thor

**Author's Note: Yeah, yeah, yeah. It's been a while. I'm so sorry... blah, blah, blah. Anyway, here's the skinny, I'm back with a new chapter!**

**I have a guess that 80 to 99 percent of this website is female, but if there are any males reading this, I have a special paragraph in here you might want to pay attention to. I don't know. Just an idea. Anyway, love you all, you're awesome!**

* * *

"What are you waiting for?" Loki growled, tugging again on the handcuffs. Their metal links clinked together pleasantly, sounding a bit like a wind chime. I smirked and skipped around the table.

"Nothing in particular. I think I like seeing you chained to my table."

"You know, when I imagined being chained up by a beautiful young woman, there was no roommate, cookies, or sarcasm," Loki remarked. I snickered and grabbed another cookie. Rachel had gone to bed about half an hour ago. Having not slept for weeks—supposedly—she crashed right after dinner. Partially from exhaustion and partially from me ordering her.

"That's some dirty thoughts you got going on there," I commented sarcastically, opening a cabinet under the counter and rifling through it looking for a dish scrub-brush. "Seems pretty immature too. How old did you say you were?" Finding it, I crossed over so I was between him and the door.

Loki didn't have time to answer, because at about that point the door to the apartment smashed down with a splintering crash. "_WHERE IS MY BROTHER_?!" a deep voice boomed. I couldn't quite tell if it was angry or ecstatic. A heavy weight came through to the kitchen to reveal Thor. Hammer, armor, golden hair and all. He didn't quite see Loki at first because I was in the way. Throwing his strong arms around me, I heard his voice soften. "It is good to see you Lady Quinn."

"Hey Thor," I greeted, hugging him back. Even his light grip was enough to pop my back.

His deep ocean blue eyes looked up to see Loki—looking rather unimpressed by his brother's behavior. "LOKI! It's so good to see you brother!" He released me—nearly sending me crashing to the ground—and moved over to him. He grabbed the slimmer demigod's shoulders and pulled him up, crushing him to his chest. The wrist that was still chained to the counter stayed behind.

"Hello Thor." Loki sounded bored and unamused.

"What is this? Why are you bound to this table?" Thor demanded.

"That's my fault," I put in. "I didn't want him running off before you got here. Want a cookie?" I picked one up and offered it to him.

"Do you have the key? I wish to return my brother to Asgard. Oh how joyous our people will be!" Thor examined the cuffs that held Loki to my counter like it was made out of something that would hurt him.

"Yeah." I pulled the key out of my pocket and unlocked the handcuff and released the God of Mischief. He rubbed at the skin where the metal had been and glared.

"I won't forget this," he threatened it.

"I would _despair_ if you did," I retorted.

"Don't think this is over, sweetheart," he snapped. I think he was trying to be threatening, but too many years of being sarcastic meant I couldn't take him seriously.

"Oh, never honey," I replied, shoving the cookie Thor apparently hadn't wanted into my mouth. Part of me wanted Rachel to wake up soon or I'd eat all of them by myself. "Before you go, Thor, can I introduce you to my roommate?" The God of Thunder smiled at me.

"Of course, my good lady. Any friend of yours is a friend of mine," he answered. Dang, I loved manners. Men, _pay attention_, girls like it when you have good manners! Why do you think so many of them are in love with Captain Rogers? He's a gentleman and would never disrespect a woman. Take careful note of that, young men.

I smiled and ran and got Rachel. She staggered out of her room and rubbed her eyes. Thor took her hand and kissed it. "Hello, Lady—" He stopped when he realized he didn't know her name.

"Rachel," I whispered in his ear.

"Hello, beautiful, gray-eyed Lady Rachel."

My roommate blushed from the roots of her hair down to her neck. "Hello Thor," she greeted, sounding embarrassed. "It's a pleasure to meet you." Thor released her hand and took his one-armed grip back on Loki.

"The pleasure is all mine. However, I must take your leave. I need to return my brother to Asgard," Thor said. I shrugged.

"Here, take some cookies before you go. There's no way the two of us can eat them all," I lied. I could eat them by myself. Turning, I put about two dozen of the three dozen—that were left—into a large plastic bag. Knowing Thor probably wouldn't be able to open the Ziploc, I didn't close it up. Just handed it to him. "My treat, for being such a great friend. And they're also for Loki, for being such a fantastic prisoner for several hours."

Thor accepted them. "You have my thanks, Lady Quinn. Farewell." The tall demigod dragged his brother out the front door to the apartment, put the door back on its hinges from where he'd pushed it down, waved to us, and disappeared.

I turned back to Rachel. "Back to bed. Now," I ordered.

"Yes _Mom_," she retorted.

"Hey, you mother me all the time. 'Did you turn the stove off? Did you charge your phone? Are all your darks in the washing machine? Do you need anything while I'm at the store?'" I parodied.

My roommate rolled her gray eyes while I glared at her with my black ones. "Fine. Bed. Night."

"Good night Rachel," I said. She twisted on the ball of her foot and stalked back into her room. The door closed and I heard a _foom_ as she landed on her bed. There was a rustling of blankets, and all sound from her room ceased. I turned to the counter and opened my laptop from where it had been idling for the past several hours. I smiled. I loved my computer. Putting half of another cookie in my mouth and holding it between my teeth, I began typing. _Hey Avengers, it's Quinn here. I was just wondering why LOKI WAS LOOSE ON MANHATTAN AND ENDED UP IN MY APARTMENT! Not to worry, Thor came and got him to return him to Asgard, but, you know, it's kind of weird how a guy supposedly serving justice for his crimes managed to escape. Let me know if you have any information. Love y'all, Quinn._

* * *

**End Note: Hmm. I wonder if any of the others have any clue.**

**To "FanFicVaporeon": Indeed. Indeed. To "Lorelei Tatsuye Marivaine": You're very welcome. Sorry for the long gap. To "callieandjack": I'm pretty sure Quinn has some form of hidden cameras in her apartment. She probably ****_does_**** have that on tape. To "leebee14": Hope this chapter answered your question. To "Demigod-GallagherGirl": Yes, indeed. To "FadingEcho12193": Sorry that I made you want cookie dough. Actually, I'm not really sorry, because ****_I_**** made me want cookie dough. I suggest you go make some. ;-D**

**Thanks for reading!**

**~Cass**


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